When he went down that final day
He was doing those things that he found play
He rode the winds his own sweet way
He smelt the smells of fans and hay.
He heard his rider say giddyap
He drank his wine from a water cup
He watched the crowds say “hup, hup, hup”
He recalled the barns when just a pup
And rounding strides to catch his lead
Inside his tendons he started to bleed
And then his lungs they tasted wrong
And heavy breathing became his song.
but he didn’t stop the thing he’d began
Instead he snorted, and ran and ran
And in the end he honored that man
Who on his back had a mighty fine plan.
And when it was over and he’d won by a hair
His heart yet alive, his nostrils aflare
He looked around with moistened eye
And said it’s not such a bad day to die.
